#either that or it’s the typical personalities of some of the people who are chosen as traitors…. like ngl mike rubbed me the wrong way from

[bestial4ngel]

Wow the ending of the traitors canada was proper brutal

[yanderefarm]

yandere cultist but its omegaverse

cw; religion, cults, yandere themes, omegaverse

ill post the introduction for him later too. ive had this idea for a minute i thought it was fun. u always see yandere cult leaders wheres the yandere followers who act the way they do because they're following what they were told. wheres the yandere cultists who have been convinced that you're their chosen soulmate and will do anything to prove it to you.

also i got the dominant thing from a yaoi manhwa i dropped i don't remember what it was called but im sure this trope isn't original to the verse i just put my own spin on it

you're what's called a "dominant" alpha, it's not anything to do with your role in the bedroom and more the strength of your traits. rut inhibitors and scent blockers have no effect on you while you struggle with interest in typical omegas. but because of the rarity of the condition it wasn't often taught about in schools. trying to find a "dominant" omega on normal dating apps was practically impossible.

that's why you turned to more conservative dating apps. less likely to find people who thought dominant omegas meant strap ons and muzzles and more likely to find people who thought the term dominant omega was a sin. while you don't agree with them an omega is a whole lot easier to reason with.

thats how you met him. he was a beautiful boy with long blue hair and lovely floral dresses. all his pictures were either clearly church pictures or candid shots of him working on a farm. all you really needed to see was the marked off dominant omega trait at this point but him being a cutie was a bonus.

you checked to make sure he was what he said he was and then you two hit it off immediately. he was shy but he used the cutest emojis, lots of hearts and sparkles. you found yourself talking to him every second of every day, completely enamored by the sweetheart he was.

so when you asked if you could finally go on a date in person you were surprised to find your stark differences reared their head. you had to meet his dad before you could go on a date. sure. he's made it no secret that he's a sheltered religious boy. the comment he also added about ensuring his purity was intact was unneeded but you could get past it. he's a good person.

he's a good person who happens to live in the same Happy Homes compound you had just watched a video essay about. you were surprised... and horrified. still as creepy as the place was you were too attached to him at this point to just abandon him here. if he couldn't be convinced to leave that's one thing but you hadn't even tried yet.

his family was warm and welcoming, a few uncomfortable comments and his eldest brother wouldn't stop glaring at you but that's not unique to them. it was a relatively normal farm house surrounded by identical farm houses. what could go wrong?

you had dinner with them and they even invited you to church with them. you knew you weren't about to be convinced to join the cult so you agreed. his father let you borrow some nice clothes and you ended up taking your boyfriend, his mother, and one of his sisters in your car.

the sermon was. boring. nothing uniquely offensive that you wouldn't find in any conservative religious church. the surprising part came with the announcements. the pastor, a beta dressed in white ushered your boyfriend and 4 other omegas onto the stage.

he talked about a plan, a calling each of them had from god. they were each supposed to bring wayward alphas to the church to join them in the house of god. yeah, you could get the gist and before you could even try to stand up one of the other boyfriends did so. he was talking about how this was bullshit and he didn't buy into this crazy crap. and then he collapsed. you watched as 2 others joined him in either death or unconsciousness.

the pastor ushered you onto the stage and your boyfriend's brother dragged you up by the arms. your heart was pounding in your ears and the lights above were glaringly bright. you barely noticed when your boyfriend's arms wrapped around your own.

"and you too shall enter the happiest homes. may god bless you."

you felt your mind go numb and the next thing you knew you were on the floor.

[whiteraven90]

Your take on griffins is so cool 👀 Do you have worldbuilding notes somewhere? Like what their dynamic is with humans, or what their habitats and habits usually are? I’d love to know more about them!

Hey, thanks for asking! I actually had written a little species description for them, but I shelved it until I draw illustrations for it. However I might as well post it now with less relevant pictures. Who knows when would I get around to drawing those illustrations. First of all... there are no gryphons on Tetra. No mortal ones, just spirits.

Spirits were created by the gods to be sentient blueprints for species. Flora & fauna were created out of chosen spirits (e.g. polar bear, barn owl), and the leftovers were repurposed (e.g. great horned gryphon, common pegasus).

In addition to the whole range of shapes/forms spirits were designed to take as part of nature, they also had their would-be behavioral patterns pre-set into them. So now lets see how the Great Horned Gryphons would have lived!

Great horned gryphons (also simply referred to as 'griffins' from now on) are sexually dimorphic, and live in pairs. They are very resource-conscious - individuals not raised properly may hunt their food sources to extinction, after which they either starve to death or get themselves killed while ravaging the animals of other griffins or humans. Each pair oversees a vast territory filled with wild herd animals. They engage in several behaviors that are basically animal husbandry. They will protect their herds from other predators and even natural disasters. They will herd their animals toward quality food. They can recognize juveniles of many species - humans included -, and will not eat them. They sometimes raise the abandoned offspring of other species, not because they plan to eat them, but because they get a kick out of it. They don't hunt, per se. They hit up one of their herds, select a specimen, and carry it home for lunch. They like to construct their nests atop cliffs and similar high points overlooking their territory.

Their relationship with people is complex (and hypothetical, as is everything else), since people may want to claim the same lands for the same purposes. But typically if they saw a lone human child, just waltzing around on their territory, they'd pick it up and put it down near adult humans. Solitary adult people tend to be safe as well for different reasons. The staple of griffins is large animals, and they like to conserve their energy. Normally they won't get up for 1 lone human nugget.

If an adult pair spots an unrelated juvenile griffin on their turf, they leave it alone, but they don't tolerate mature trespassers or other pairs. They are hostile to all other species of gryphon. Given the opportunity, they will kill and eat them. Great horned gryphons are viviparous and give birth to 1 chick at a time which stays with the parents for several years to learn some manners. Mostly moderation, recognizing important animal species, and caring for their animals. Their lifespan is 40-70 years.

And that's more or less it. At present, great horned gryphons are not plural. There's just one spirit, Griffin, representing the whole species, either until the heat death of the universe or until he bites the dust. Spirits are shapeshifters with a range of native forms as opposed to one original form. They have some rules among them on etiquette, such as when is it ok to take the form of another spirit. Griffin mostly uses his adult male form, and lets Phoenix take his adult female one.

Several of his species' characteristics can be felt in his personality - excels at relaxing, hard to anger or scare, won't hurt kids or pets and is good with them, extraverted, resource-conscious, enjoys having vast lands. His relationship with humans is... complicated. Nowadays he kinda pretends to be a pet at the palace of the emperor of the Karkian Empire, and is banned from or unwelcome in several other countries. Sorcerers summon him sometimes, but the jolly fucker usually charges by the hour for his spirit-y services, and may even screw the summoners over if he doesn't like them.

[yanderes-galore]

Hear me out…Yandere Titan Shifters with Sacrificial Bride?

Every year when a New Titan Appears its custom to for said Titan to pick out their ‘Bride’ and take them away (The term ‘Bride’ is used loosely as they have no idea what these Titan’s do with their chosen, but it’s believed they get eaten) doing so results in the Humans from being attacked, pillaged and devoured by other Titans

This time it’s Reiner’s Turn as he comes back to collect Reader

Sure! The AU was a bit vague but I'll see what I can do for it! ^^ This isn't going to be exactly like AOT obviously, it'll be different.

Yandere! Reiner Braun Concept

(Sacrificial Bride AU)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Manipulation, "Marriage", Isolation, Possessive behavior, Murder briefly mentioned, Dubious relationship.

It was distressing to learn Reiner was outed as a new Titan.

It's a customary ritual in your home.

Eventually, whenever someone awakens Titan powers, they are sent out of civilization to stay with other Titan Shifters.

No one knows how Titans are chosen.

It's seemingly random... The affected person being banished from society.

This typically results in Titan Shifters living in colonies away from other humans.

As expected, when this problem first began, Titan Shifters often came back to cause havoc on the community that abandoned them.

In response to such an issue, the 'Sacrificial Spouse' plan arose.

Every year, a new Titan is sent to the village they originated from to pick a partner as a sacrifice.

Be they a bride or groom... the village offers them up to the Titan.

No one knows what happens to said chosen spouses...

But many think of the worst.

Years ago you learned Reiner was outed as a Titan... known as the Armored Titan.

You were devastated when he had to leave, you and Reiner were so close in your youth.

Best friends, actually.

Perhaps even crushes.

Reiner didn't want to let you go.

Why would he?

He loved you...

The people of your home nearly had to pry him off you.

Many already feared him for his strength, often remarking he never fit in.

You, on the other hand, always seemed to coddle him in response.

You two did everything together, growing up together since you two were children.

It's not like either of you would've known he'd be a Titan.

Some suspected he would be due to his strong build.

Yet there was no way to tell.

Not until you heard the roar of a Titan and saw the large armored beast itself.

Reiner appeared mortified after the others caught him, his skin steaming.

Even more so when you looked at him with pity.

Reiner had always had dreams of you two being together.

You probably didn't know, but he thought of it often.

He thought of asking you to be his girlfriend... He thought of some day proposing to you...

He thought of making you his wife.

Being cast out of the one place he called home as tradition devastated Reiner.

It ruined his hopes and dreams.

He wasn't human... so he had to pay for it.

You were there to see him go.

In fact, you were probably the only one who clung to him with a hug before he was carted off.

In hindsight you should've known you'd see Reiner again due to your bond.

Eventually Reiner would come back, all Titan Shifters do when their time comes.

You felt both excited yet dreadful when you saw the Armored Titan come back.

The typical negotiations would be set...

In exchange for not attacking humanity... Reiner would be given a sacrifice.

It's easy to feel intimidated in front of the large Titan.

He easily towers over the tallest buildings in your home easily.

When you see those pale white eyes scan the surroundings, you know it's Reiner.

You should've expected him to point at you with a large finger, choosing you as his sacrifice.

When he does, you feel a bit of betrayal but knew this would happen.

After all, no one knew what Titans did to their sacrifice.

Despite all you two did with one another...

You still feared being eaten.

When you're pushed forward, the large Titan looks down silently.

Only for it to put its hand down for you to crawl onto.

Reluctantly, you do... looking back at the place you once called home with longing.

This is where your new life would begin.

The carry back is long, the Armored Titan carrying you silently.

Despite this, the carry is gentle.

The Titan, Reiner, carries you as though you're fragile.

Which is true... considering his strength even now.

I imagine the Titan Shifter civilization has grown over the years despite the limited members. (No Marley in this AU)

Reiner is careful when he puts you down and swaps to his human form.

He mostly looks the same from when you last saw him.

Except... He certainly seems more relieved if not a little nervous.

This may not exactly be Reiner's dream...

But it's close enough.

After all, by sacrifice you two are married.

Which means... you're his bride.

Even if it isn't traditional... you're still together.

He's never been happier.

Even when you look fearful and hesitant, Reiner can't help but hug you tightly.

He's still steaming, his skin hot to the touch as he holds you close.

You can barely listen to his words when he speaks, how he explains he has a house for the both of you... how he's missed you so much...

You're too overwhelmed to process it all.

Yet you have to all the same.

Reiner would no doubt treat you like nothing's changed.

He doesn't bring up the Titan thing much at first.

He just treats you like his wife, sleeping beside you and showering you in affection.

You may be unhappy... but Reiner thinks you'll grow used to it.

He's possessive of you... Insisting he buys you a ring.

Maybe even one that contains some parts from his Titan, just to show he claims you even more.

He doesn't trust you around other shifters much, no doubt due to the rumors of them eating their sacrifice.

Reiner would never do such a thing.

Although he does try to get used to his Titan form.

He spends time taking you out of the settlement border and swapping to his Titan form.

He wants you comfortable, often holding you or sitting you on his shoulder.

Most of the time he'll just sit down and hold you eye level, encouraging you to just rant or speak to him as he listens.

Reiner is an attentive husband, even if he seems insecure at times.

While intimidating to all, Reiner never wants you to fear him.

He's patient, just happy to have you by his side again after so long.

He won't press for much...

He just wants you to stay in the home you two have together.

Others are usually quite nice to you since Reiner's Titan is important, a shield for the community.

Best they don't piss him off.

Reiner definitely fears losing you.

Even at night you can feel him hold you close to him.

At first it feels threatening...

But his naturally high body heat ends up feeling quite soothing after a while.

Reiner is protective of you.

Sometimes humans will come to their settlement to cause trouble.

Although, it's guaranteed if anyone hurt you that Reiner would remove them.

I would not be surprised if you caught Reiner eating someone who threatened you.

It almost feels... feral to you.

Reiner is a strong beast and warrior, one capable of fighting.

Despite it all... He'd never hurt his bride.

He's always loved you since you were both small.

He may be a beast now... yet that love has never changed.

In fact, now it's only strengthened.

After all, your previous home may have cast him out... but they also gave him you.

That's why he never understands why you want to return home at times.

They cast you out... deserted you like they did to him.

It's not like you could return anyways.

Reiner would find you... even if you did get back, they'd abandon you for fear of their destruction.

Your real home is here, right beside him as his wife...

He'll love you as no one else will.

[clairedaring]

if you're hoping for joe 2.0 to get his 'revenge' in the second half of the series...

warning: mild novel spoilers (but also not really because i'm just discussing things that have been shown in the trailer)

i really think you should either drop the series or give up the hopes of a satisfying makjang revenge storyline in my stand-in instead of setting yourself up for disappointment. because that simply isn't the story that my stand-in is trying to tell.

so what is my stand-in about really?

well, for me i think its a romance tragicomedy drama about an idiotic scum male lead losing the person he loves most because of his own arrogance and refusal to listen to his heart and the series of unfortunate events that happened consequently for our protagonist who was living a peaceful and quiet life as a stunt actor before the scum male lead entered his life.

joe 2.0 and his approach to life

i've mentioned it twice now that one of my favorite traits of joe/zhou xiang is that kindness in his strength where even if he can be choose to be mean or cruel, he simply doesn't because he has such a soft heart and he's weak to see others in pain (joe is my fellow enfp people pleaser okay) (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ which is why even in his 2.0 life, you won't get to see joe turning 180 degree and going around to hurt everyone who's ever hurt him like it's some makjang kdrama.

and while that seems like it could be fun, i think the reason why i loved professional body double (my stand-in novel) so much in the first place is because that very distinction between joe and other rebirth/second chance at life protagonists that you often see in revenge kdramas/cdramas/thai lakorns.

logically, if my stand-in was a 24-episode one31 lakorn/thai soap opera, joe would be full of hatred and burning rage after his rebirth and started his intricated revenge plot while still falling in love with ming whom he should hate the most.

and yet he isn't (or at least it seems to me so far).

if you read the lyrics 'Die For You' - the opening ost of my stand-in, i think you can have a good guess of what the second half of the story will be like.

Even running away to death can't help. If my heart had chosen to stop at you I'll have to surrender with the confusion I feel. To come back to the same old place. Even if I have to die, disappear and then be reborn But the love is still buried deep inside, even if it's been shattered into pieces Even if my life ends, I can't stop my heart from calling out to you Because this whole body, life, spirit It is yours only, for all eternity.

and even from the trailer of my stand-in, you can tell that joe 2.0 has a lot of internal conflicting feelings about whether he could trust ming again after the betrayal he faced in his 1.0 life. and i feel like essentially the journey of ming proving to joe 2.0 that he really does love joe is very much the central plot in the second half part of the story.

so i'd like to take this part to note how well the series has done to adapt the novel so far. i think a good adapted change they've made is this early realization of feelings for ming in the joe 1.0 timeline. i do think the novel made him realized his feelings a little bit later but my stand-in did well to show within ep.3 what happiness could have looked like for joe 1.0 and ming and i think it rationalizes a bit more more for why joe 2.0 would still have feelings for ming 'buried deep inside' even when he's been badly hurt the first time around. and reading the story i've always found it interesting that they took this route to focus on the re-entangled complex relationship between mingjoe rather than going for a joe-centric revenge makjang plot (i swear if this was your typical thai lakorn, joe would seduce ming while planning to take down his whole family or something).

of course, that's not to dismiss that there's a lot of character growth for joe in the second half of the story, especially in his building of self-confidence, self-worth, the ability to put himself first and the fight for his own happiness above all. but like i've mentioned above, his growth journey is not at the expense of a drastic personality change in regards to the kind hearted joe we saw in his 1.0 life. instead, we get kind hearted joe 2.0 who quickly adapts to his new life and attempts to start anew while conflicted feelings resurface for him as he is pulled back into the relationships he once had.

all in all, my stand-in is still at the heart of it, a love story. perhaps, a dark romance as my friend @dragonsandphoenix would call it, but a romance nonetheless. i think that is what also makes professional body double such a compelling read too, because the progression in the feelings and complex emotions of these characters are so tightly written that it's convincing enough for me (maybe not for others though) to believe that yan ming xiu has/will always love zhou xiang (to the point ymx would probably eliminate anyone else who dared to steal zx from him). obsessive love? yes. do they both need therapy? probably. yet i still believe in their happy ending? of course.

final note/disclaimer: then again, this is just my PERSONAL opinions based on the novel and up til 3 episodes of my stand-in (which seems to be very faithful to the novel so far), who knows maybe they can anger novel fans and adapt it completely differently later on (something i sure hope they don't but we'll seeeee) ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

[former-ghost-of-the-internet]

One Night in Medellín

(Screen shot and image edits done by me)

Summary: Takes place during s2ep5, when Los Pepes first attacks the narcos on the streets of  Medellín. You lose your hearing during a standoff and are dumped at the Search Bloc base. Javi comforts you in the aftermath, finding ways to communicate through your temporary deafness. 

Javier Peña x f reader

Word count: 3526

Rating: 18+ for some dark content in the background. My blog/‘place I keep my reblogs’ is very Mature, so no minors allowed there, sorry.

Warnings: series typical violence, hurt/comfort, soft Javi, tiny bit of your blood, descriptions of panicked reader, generally able-bodied reader, might read as shorter than Javi, only one instance of female clothing for a funny awkward moment, no specific descriptions of reader, hopefully this is fairly inclusive for everyone. No y/n, no smut.

Authors note:   100% bad information on everything medical related in this story. Any cultural inaccuracies are my own fault too. Apologies to Steve Murphy for being the butt of a joke or two. First time writing in second-person. Not American so the spelling will be slightly different.

Please enjoy 😊

....

Medellín nights were always festive, despite one man’s war with the Colombian government. 

You’d had a long but good day, far far away from the UNICEF office and in a little communa church hall, where you and the other doctors and nurses had vaccinated as many children as could be rounded up. Even the abuelitas had rooted out the most stubborn kids, and either guilted them into coming down, or whacked them in the right direction with their walking sticks and shoes, if not open palms on skulls. Each time was a commotion, and to ease hurt childish feelings, you slipped enough pesos into their hands for an ice cream. For the hard-working abuelitas a coffee cart vendor happily provided free coffee, after you had thrown a pretty smile his way and warned him the little old women were worked up enough to be a threat to anyone not on their side. And he absolutely wanted to be on their side. 

With the unused vaccines stored at a major hospital, and saying goodnight to the local doctors who’d been right next to you since sunrise, you’d headed to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant one nurse raved about during one break you’d taken with her, with free coffees, thanks to a sharp glare from the abuelitas, bless their hearts. 

It was further from the city centre than where you’d been told to stay close to at night, but you hoped your very bright UNICEF shirt would offer some protection in the dark. Even your backpack had a big red cross on it. Anything to say you were a doctor, here to help, and absolutely not a threat. 

The restaurant was packed, even the few plastic tables shoved outside were full, and the small waitstaff offered paper plates to take-away, which many people had chosen, and sat on the street curbs to eat, under the yellow streetlights.

At last the line to order, which the waitstaff had banished to wait outside the actual restaurant, had shortened to only you and the two men in front of you. They both carried full gym bags. And as you noticed with a slight chill through your spine, handguns tucked into their belts. They chatted together without a care in the world, as you looked away to make sure you didn’t see their faces, even in low-light. 

You stared up the street to the top of the hill and the man who walked down it with an assured swagger, encased in khaki pants. Like he’d stepped out of the jungle. 

You frowned as he passed under a streetlight. Something about his face was familiar in a bad way. 

He had his focus on the men standing next to you, and in a blink, drew his own handgun out. 

An arm grabbed you around your shoulders, pulling you back into a chest, your backpack falling to the ground. Then the cold metal of a weapon held to your ear. 

Shouts in Spanish between the men, some sort of negotiation happened as you tried to simply breathe. This is what everyone was afraid would happen to you, from the president of Colombia, to your superiors, and your family, down to the Medellín officials and a couple of American DEA agents. They’d all wanted you to stay out of the murder capital of the world. You’d told them no one would target you. The local doctors were still here, so why shouldn’t you? 

Now you were a human shield, not because of your work, but because you were the closest person to grab. You had never considered the possibility of it before this minute. 

The man behind you moved a step back, taking you with him. Except your legs refused to work, staying where you had left them. Another step back, dragging you along, and your legs crumpled underneath you, making you slide down his body at an awkward angle. Enough for the man in khakis to shoot.

The bullet entered his chest right by your ear. All sound stopped and you were falling.  

You landed on a dead man’s chest. On instinct, you curled into yourself and away from everyone, hitting the rough and hard concrete of Medellín’s streets. 

Hands grabbed you and hauled you to your feet, half carrying you to a waiting SUV. First you, then your backpack were bundled into the darkness of the back seat. The dead men’s gym bags also ended up with you. The owner of the hands hopped into the front, and the driver took off.

A hand came back to tap your cheek, grabbing your chin and twisting your head to look up. The accidental light of street-lamps and cars flashed across your view. He smiled at you and his mouth moved as if he was talking.

You frowned and focused on his mouth. None of his words were getting through to you. You blinked hard to try to clear away the fuzziness of the world, but it changed nothing.

His mouth made these exaggerated shapes and his spare hand moved in circles, like a hamster spinning uncontrollably on a wheel. Maybe he was shouting at you.

You blinked again to be sure, and then had to shake your head. You couldn’t hear anything.

He smiled then tapped your ear and gave a thumbs down. You nodded. 

That caused an explosion of arms from him, as he whacked his driver on the shoulder. Looking back at you, he took note of the UNICEF insignia on your shirt, and you realised where you had seen him before. Carlos Castaño. A paramilitary man based in the jungle, fighting communist guerrillas. 

You had met once before. You’d had to get permission from every side, paramilitary commanders, regular military commanders, government officials, and even the guerrilla commanders, before they let you step anywhere near the Amazon. All so you could vaccinate a few children in a communist village.

The communists had been straight-forward to convince, once you talked in their lingo, focusing on healthcare for all. For the others, a bribe that came out of your pocket, another a promise not to get in the way of anything and to get out in under 24 hours. The Castaños you convinced by saying the communists were dirty, potentially disease-ridden plague carriers. If the brothers couldn’t promise you every communist in the jungle dead in three months time, then they had to let you in to vaccinate, so no epidemic could start from their continued existence. 

You hated saying it, and drunk too much later that night to get the sound of it out of your mouth, but it worked. Those kids wouldn’t die from a preventable disease. But you couldn’t save them from a bullet shot by mad, greedy men. 

Carlos smiled at you again, and pointed his driver to take the next left. 

Some minutes later, the car pulled up to the curb.  Carlos turned to you and put a finger over his lips and shushed you. Then he dragged the same finger across his neck and finally pointed it at you. 

You didn’t know what your face was doing at this point, you probably looked like a scared rabbit, all wide eyes and trembling body. Carlos broke and laughed at you, waving you out of the car. You fumbled with the car door, and stumbled onto the dark, damp street, dragging your backpack with you. They sped off into the night as you stumbled with your own weight.

Not far away, in a pool of white light, was a gate-way guarded by Search Bloc officers. Carlos had dumped you, the little lost foreigner, in front of their base. Your legs co-operated long enough to get you to the gate.

The guards stopped you with one hand up and the other resting on their rifles. You raised both hands up, and announced to everyone’s ears but your own, your name and nationality, that your passport was in your bag. The words felt like they slurred coming off your tongue, like they were heavier than usual. You wondered if you made any sense, but one man nodded at you to continue. It took you no time to dig out your passport. 

With a short inspection of your passport, and a torch flashed into your face, the guards waved you through the gate. One of them touched your ear and brought it up to your eyes to show you blood. The other held his radio up to his mouth. 

As you checked your ear for more blood, a police car came from the base, and the guards helped you in. A short ride and you were taken inside the bright building. The lights blinded you, and you tried to cover your eyes, barely seeing the medic ushering you to a bench. 

You kept blinking, like if you could turn off the world for a bit you would be alright again. You’d be able to focus, to think, to speak, to hear. The outside world was right there in front of you, and as much as you tried to reach out, you were locked behind your eyes. 

A warm hand caressed your arm and shoulder, bringing your attention to its owner. Javier Peña. He stared at you with big brown eyes, looking you over better than any doctor. His hand slid down to yours, keeping it safe under his. 

Javi listened to the medic, then his attention went to a nearby officer, and you saw his lips ask a question, his eyes straying to the dark streets beyond the base. You shook your head, grabbing his shoulder with your other hand, pulling his eyes back to yours, shouting out your warning in clumsy sounds you couldn’t quite hear. If you had your way, no one, not even the narcos, would be out on those streets tonight. Especially not him. 

Because Javi cared. No matter what anyone, or even he said. His heart cared for so many people you’d lost count, though he tried to keep it secret from the rest of the world.

And somehow, somewhere, he decided he cared about you too.

Javi nodded, as serious as ever, and cupped your cheek. Message understood. Relieved, you crumple into him, his arm wrapping around you to hold you close. His chest rumbled, maybe talking to you, or maybe to the officer. After a few breaths, he squeezed your hand and tilted your body back to look at him. He nodded towards the stairs. You nodded back and he helped you up, letting you lean against him.

He led you upstairs, past many doors, until he reached one particular darkened room, and ushered you in. You recognised some of Javi’s colourful shirts piled on a chair, and larger piles of Steve’s shoes, pants, and tops, scattered over half the room and one of the two-tier bunk beds.

Javi led you to a small desk, its small lamp draped a soft light over the room, pulled out the chair for you, and poured a glass of whiskey. He made sure you had both of your hands cradling the drink before he let you take the slight weight from him. You sipped a little at the strong drink, watching as he first gathered up his few visible clothes, shoving them in a suitcase, and then collected Steve’s mess, roughly sorting and folding, then at last dumped into a closet.

Javi went to the neater bunk bed, not Steve’s, pulling back the thin covers, inviting you to rest there. But you didn’t move. You just sat there blinking at the world.

He came back to you, dropped to a knee, and untied your shoelaces, gently taking off your shoes. Setting them aside, his eyes looked you over again, and settled on the whiskey in your hands. He pointed at it, and then glanced up at you. It took a second or two before you realised he was asking if you wanted more. You shook your head and moved the glass away from you. Javi plucked the drink out of your hands. He had a quick debate with himself, ended with a short shrug, and then downed the remains.

Putting the glass on the desk, he swallowed again, before catching your gaze with his. He lifted both hands to his chest, cupping them like the air was something heavy he could hold up, and jiggled them up and down. Then he pointed at you and made a gesture like he was swiping a cobweb away. You frowned and he repeated the sequence. This time his cupped hands looked like a bikini top. You still had no idea what he wanted to say.

With a quick lick of his lips, he reached forward and tapped a finger on your bra strap under your top.

Your face heated as you realised his question. Did you want to take your bra off? Yes, you did, and you nodded at him.

Javi joined you in nodding, but then put a finger up, telling you to wait. Another nod from you, and he was on his feet, dragging out his suitcase again, digging to the bottom of it. At last he brought out a khaki green t-shirt, and placed it on the end of the bunk for you. As you got to your feet, he shoved the suitcase away and retreated to the door, closing it behind him.

He could have stayed and turned his back, but maybe Javi thought that was too hard to mime. You change out of everything except your undies, draping it all over the back of the chair, and slipped on the t-shirt.

The door remained shut. It felt colder without him in the room. You rubbed an arm to try to stop your shivers. Was he coming back? Should you wait? Or was this everything you could expect from him? He had done plenty for you.

He’s probably not there. Why would he be? He’s got files to read still, the radio to sit by, informants to call, Steve to rescue, or maybe he’s finding another bunk to sleep on. So long as he stayed on the base it would be fine. He would be fine.

The hallway is empty. It has to be. You were on your own, you just had to be alright with that. And you would be. Eventually.

It would take time but you would be good again.

You huddled into yourself, your eyes dropping to the ground, as you tried to make your heart understand that Javi had done enough for you tonight. Then you saw the shadow under the door, like something was behind it. Your hand was on the knob before your brain could think.

Javi twisted his body to face you. He had stood guard on your door as you changed. The worried look over his features seems to be a permanent guest this evening.

Your eyes must have said please come back, as he maneuvered you inside with a gentle hand above your elbow, and followed, closing the door again. He sat you down on his bunk bed, and then further down to lie on your back.

He rubbed your arms a few times, slow and comforting, staring at you for a while. At last one hand came up to cup your cheek and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You nuzzled closer, his mustache tickling your skin. Your heart, mind, and body called out for Javi to stay. Nothing else would help you, could soothe your tremors, calm you and find yourself again, like being close to him.

Javi drew back, and your hand shot out to grab his arm, gripped tight so he couldn’t leave you.

His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb soothing over the slight hurt he’d caused.

When your breathing eased, you pointed at him and then at the bunk below you.

Javi looked over his shoulder at the door, like he was saying he would find another place to sleep, but that wasn’t what you meant.

You jostled his shoulder to get his attention once more, pointed forcefully first at him then at your bunk. Not another bed, this one. With you. This time he understood. His eyes flicked from place to place, your bunk and then Steve’s bunk, even down at his shoes as he thought of something, and then he nodded.

You were shuffling to make room for him when he stopped you. Javi pointed at you then covered his eyes with a hand. He wanted you to keep your eyes closed, so he could get comfy too. But it meant you’d be down another sense. No sight and no sound. The world would be even further from you.

His eyes begged you to trust him. You took a few deliberate breaths, and he waited for you, watching for any sign of major distress. At last, you nodded and used both hands over your eyes to show you weren’t peeking.

In your darkness and quiet, the only company you had was the bunk under you and Javi’s weight next to your thigh. You could smell his aftershave and cigarette smoke, not overpowering, but most definitely there with you, and not leaving anytime soon. Nice and comforting and him. You took deep breaths of it.

He shifted his weight forward, one way then another. Shoes, you guessed. He came back to you, and did a short wiggle. Something landed next to your arm, soft and warm. His shirt.

Javi’s weight left the bunk completely. Panic made your muscles clench, and you forced your hands down into your eyes, trying to glue them in place, and breathed as best you could.

Something rougher and stiffer and warm landed on top of his shirt. Jeans? He was still here.

You waited a long, long moment for something more to happen.

Two fingers tapped the back of your hand. A deliberate action, purposeful, a message to you. Safe to look now. You drew your hands away and saw Javi standing next to the bunk in a pair of white boxers, folding his shirt and jeans away in his suitcase. He leaned over and placed a quick kiss on your forehead. A thank-you for your bravery.

He left before you could catch him, going to the bottom end of Steve’s bunk, lifting it up and closer to your bunk. He repeated with the top end, and you got to your knees, reaching over to grab the metal frame and pulled it in snug next to yours.

Javi, the genius man that he is, had just created a queen-sized bunk bed. Room enough for your body and his broad shoulders.

You watched as Javi climbed into his side, wondering how he wanted to sleep, when he draped his arm over to you, hugging you to lay snug against his side, your head resting on his bare chest, one of your arms across his waist. He fussed with the covers for a moment or two, making sure most of your body was underneath it.

He was warm and smooth and solid. Safe. At last. You breathed in deeply, his unique scent filling your nose, and then let it go. Another in, and out again.

Your heart had settled. The world was as far away as it needed to be right now. Or perhaps the world was as small as this room, as this bunk. This man. Your arms around him, and his around you.

If your eyes closed tonight, Javi would be there, under your touch.

One more thing left to do. You shifted to look into his eyes. They were filled with concern, until you whispered your thanks to his ears alone. Even a tiny smile on his lips crinkled the corners of his eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself from planting a kiss to his cheek. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, and he nuzzled his nose against yours as soon as your lips left his skin, then moved up to your forehead, kissing it again.

Those brown eyes locked with yours for a moment, before he closed his eyelids, and then opened them quickly and nodded at you.

He wanted you to close your eyes. So you did. You felt Javi lean in closer still, and then his lips placed a kiss first on one eyelid, then the other.

Opening your eyes, you pressed your forehead to his, and moved your hand from his chest, to soothe over his jaw, his chin, then trace over his lips. You wanted to kiss him there. And from the glint in his brown eyes, he wanted it too.

But it wasn’t the right time. Both of you knew it. Besides, you wanted to hear him.

Javi’s lips twitched into a soft grin as if he heard your last thought. His mouth formed words, slow but firm. Three short words. Then he settled you back down onto his warm chest.

You felt Javi’s heartbeat against your cheek, counted its beat without numbers, let its languid pace lull you further towards sleep, until at last your eyes closed with the peace he gave you.

And in your dreams Javi’s heartbeat was your world.

....

Thank you for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ranger-ribbons]

General Ranger Headcanons

Ranger Teams are protective of their youngest members and their Reds. Sometimes, this does coincide, but for the most part, the youngest and the Red are separate people

Red Rangers generally have zero self-preservation instincts, either because of trauma or daredevil personalities

Blue Rangers can be the 'tech wiz', but generally, they're just extremely intelligent

Rangers all have a pretty solid relationship with gender and pronouns. Mostly because they see and fight aliens literally every day and have decided they have Bigger Things to worry about

Reds, Yellows, and Blues are usually always there on the Ranger teams, so it's common for them to be close

Rangers have a list that they pass down to the younger teams. This list details little things like how to help give each other strength to what pain medications can help the aches and pains go away fastest, because yes the suits take most of the blows, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt later

Some Rangers have PTSD, some have anxiety, some have depression. There are, in fact, numbers of former-Ranger therapists that the Rangers all know by heart

Teams don't really drift apart, they stick together because who else is gonna understand what it's like to witness the people you hang around daily almost die every other week?

Rangers drift toward other Rangers. It's due to the Morphin' Grid power they've been imbued with and the Morphin' Grid's pull to itself

There's a point in every Ranger's fight that shift-sleeping becomes the norm amongst teams. It's to stop nightmares, but also because of the paranoia that strikes when you're in fight or flight mode too long

Rangers from space or space-adjacent stick together

Rangers in general stick together, always. Where one Ranger is, another is typically not far behind. Some teams go so far as to get houses together, others just in the same neighborhood or town. Never far from each other, and never away for too long

The Power will never, can never abandon its chosen people. Once it makes its choices, it will not deviate. It doesn't stop looking out for its chosen ones either. Once you've bonded to the Morphin' Grid, you're stuck for life, regardless of being active or not

In Universe, people write fanfiction about the Rangers. Yes, they read it, sometimes they even like it. (Megaforce and down in particular find it hilarious)

The scone the Rangers find out about their Super Sentai counterpart shows, it's on. Some find them hilarious, some find them uncomfortable, but it's all in good fun for all of them

A list of common triggers is passed around to the Ranger teams, including but not limited to: loud noises, bugs, fog, robotic voices/static

Some of the Rangers (especially those who've been fighting for years) get therapy animals

Rangers have problems connecting to people who aren't Rangers or don't know about Rangers. Similar to military or police or doctors, Rangers are never truly off unless they're inactive and even then, it's a roll of the dice as to if they'll be pulled back in. Most of them have been doing this since they were teens, so they never truly got a chance. Preston Tien, Ninja Steel Blue, once described the experience as "playing with a half-deck whilst the other decks are rigged against you" and most of the other Rangers agreed

Every Ranger knows the pain of Nightmares, which is a big part of the reason shift-sleeping became so common amongst teams. Sleeping disorders are also common, which is not easy for the Rangers to deal with. When you're trained from a young age to be fighters and saviors of the planet, you don't walk away without trauma

Rangers who've gone Evil (or started Evil) and come back to the side of Good have each other's direct lines, Tommy Oliver, Karone, Trent Fernandez-Mercer, etc, all of them share a similar fear of suddenly turning evil again

Rangers do not like Zordon for his express need to put teenagers into a war that isn't even their's

[tigirl-and-co]

Specks of Dust in Hallowed Halls

Part 2; Linguistics

Part 1, the introductory chapter, is here!

Now we get into the shippy stuff! And bonus points for anybody who recognizes the book I've chosen here

"Howlsong, who had fallen asleep at the outer edge of the canyon while he waited, led them silently back through the forest. Fritti, full of vague resentment and doom, had no conversation to offer, either. After a long stretch of unspeaking travel, Pouncequick finally broke the stillness.

"Just think, Tailchaser," he said, "we've actually been to see the Queen of Cats!""

You were curled up in a nook that you had unofficially claimed as your own somewhere in the human residence. Made more comfortable by a few blankets and pillows, you had chosen it for its out-of-the-way location and because Metroplex could both see the spot with a camera and use a nearby speaker to talk with you.

In your lap was your phone, currently accessing his personal communication line, which let him hear your voice.

Metroplex loved your voice. It was his favourite sound, the most wonderful melody he'd heard in all his unfathomable eons of existence. Every syllable, every stutter and stumble was permanently caught in his memory circuits, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

And when he learned you had a collection of books back on earth, he had practically begged you to import some to read to him. Not only was he desperate to hear your voice, Metroplex was also curious about you. What you liked to read, what the human culture you hailed from was like, what you thought about things...

So, you found yourself contacting a friend on earth to bring a few books to the supply ship every so often, and spending a bit of extra cash to get them shipped here and back. You didn't mind. It felt nice to be heard. To have your interests acknowledged and considered important.

And, quite honestly, you simply enjoyed hearing him speak. The deep rumble was both soothing and impossible to ignore, and his contemplative nature gave every statement the gravitas of some ancient philosopher comprehending the universe.

"So, Metty, what'd you think of that chapter?" you asked, keeping your own opinions out of it. You were just as interested in his thoughts as he was in yours.

A few moments of pause. "Hm... are human noble courts typically like that?"

You chuckled. Of course that's what he picked out- he'd borne witness to much more sophisticated councils time and time again. In fact, some other part of his processor was probably preoccupied with one now.

"Honestly? Never been. But if I walked in to one and it went like that, I wouldn't be surprised in the least. Fancy people looooooove making overly complex routines and rules and then not actually doing anything to help." You looked up into his camera and beamed at him. "But I get the feeling that sort of behaviour isn't unique to my species."

You felt as much as heard his merriment at that one. "No, it truly is not. Although I've found Cybertronians prefer bureaucracy to bloodlines."

You snuggled back into your nook, still making eye contact with the camera as you got ready for what was certain to be the nerdiest bout of flirting any human had ever partaken in outside of a lab. "Ah, humans most definitely get up to red tape and government nonsense too, but I'm afraid that compared to millions of years of rule-writing, ours would pale in comparison."

You smirked. "Although I'd like to see what would happen if somebody addressed Prime as 'Your Regal Softness.'"

Metroplex desperately wished he had finer control over his internal mechanisms so that he could embrace you right now. But he would have to settle for watching you curl up against his walls. "Knowing that mech, he would assume it was an actual title and wear it with pride."

You burst out laughing at the image, and how it didn't seem all that far-fetched. You both respected Optimus, but that didn't mean you couldn't be irreverent about him in private.

And as you chatted with the titan, book now just conversational fuel, you were struck by how easy it all was. The meandering levity, the way you each made both space and time for each other...

And how easy he was to love.

[nothorses]

May I ask why you think Biden stepping down and Kamala being the candidate to be 'good news'? I'm still voting for whoever the Democratic candidate is ofc, but I worry this move threw away the average swingvoter who may have been swayed towards voting blue. I don't see how anyone who may have been okay voting for Biden by virtue of him being an old white dude is gonna be as nice towards a brown woman. I mean, people were too sexist for Hillary, the most milquetoast white woman imaginable. I'd really like to hear your perspective.

Biden has been polling like shit for months, and basically fucking everyone has been calling for him to step out of the race for a while now. It's been the opinion of political experts that he doesn't have much of a shot in this election for a variety of reasons. The vast majority of his own base is incredibly dissatisfied with his stance on Palestine (an understatement), and numbers have been reflecting that he was going to be running against some truly miserable odds because of that.

It is genuinely the best option for him to step out of the race. Literally just about anyone else has a much better shot at winning than Biden did. Kamala included! There was a press conference a while back where someone actually asked him if he'd step down if Kamala polled better, and he said he wouldn't. Which is extremely worrying, because it demonstrates that he may have been prioritizing his own personal ego over the importance of keeping Republicans out of office this election.

I don't like Biden, and I really didn't like his odds in this race. Nobody else did, either. The fact that Obama came out and said Biden needs to step down is indication enough that this happened because the situation is really that dire; you have to remember that Democrats are all about Doing Things By The Book, especially in the last 8-ish years when it's been useful for them to be Rule Followers in contrast to the tantrum-throwing chaos machines that Republicans have been. If there was even a sliver of hope for Biden to stay in the race after being chosen in the sad sham that the primaries were this election cycle, they would have kept pushing just to stay within the bounds of convention.

I was ready to push for Biden regardless, because keeping Republicans out of office is priority #1. But I've been saying for a while now that he needs to drop out (just... not on Tumblr, where the dominant conversation is "does voting for a flawed political pawn make you personally responsible for everything they ever do, or should we abstain and let the fascists hijack our government and kickstart several new genocides for the sake of personal moral purity" and I don't think that kind of nuance would be well-received).

I use my grandparents as a litmus test in a lot of this stuff, because they are very much the Typical Liberal Democrats, and their opinions on these things tend to fall in line with the majority of voting Democrats. They absolutely loved Biden in 2020, long before he was chosen as the candidate. They don't anymore. Seeing them lose any and all enthusiasm for voting for this corpse of a man was evidence enough to me that we needed someone else. Ideally someone people can get excited about, because I think folks have mostly lost the perspective we had in 2020 when Trump's nightmarish presidency was fresh in everyone's minds, and served as motivation enough to get to the fucking polls- regardless of who the Dem pick actually was.

From what I understand, Kamala is actually polling better than anyone else right now. I have my fears about voters' racism and misogyny too, but if she's doing well in the polls, I wonder if maybe there's some other factors counteracting that. She's also got name recognition, and the general impression of Being Qualified (because she's been VP already, like Biden was), and Being Likeable (because she comes with the general positive associations of the largely successful Biden presidency, without any baggage of perceived responsibility that Biden himself carries- like Biden did with Obama). She's been flying under the radar while still reaping the benefits of positive associations, and people know who she is. That feels like a good combination, but I don't know enough, and I haven't read enough into it to make any decently educated guesses.

That said, I don't really know as much about who the other potential candidates might be, either. I've heard Pete Buttigieg's name tossed around, but nobody liked his ass back in 2020 and idk if that's actually changed at all. I just know that every politically-knowledgeable/politically-active leftist whose opinion I've heard on the topic has been citing Biden dropping out as the literal only hope for a non-Republican to win this election, and I'm really fucking excited to see that come to fruition. I just hope the Dems pick someone who really does have a good shot.

As a sidenote, I also really hope this marks a shift in how they make decisions, too. It's become increasingly obvious how out-of-touch Democrats are with their voters, and Biden 2024 was just the latest and greatest indicator of exactly how bad that's gotten. The fact that the party has been able to make such an unconventional decision in response to what their voters actually want gives me a little bit of hope that we might be able to influence more change with them going forward than we have been.

[bloodflwrz]

These wall artworks in Carl Manfred's Mansion (theory and analysis)

Carl's mansion itself is an amazing location because I can't help but look and analyze every single piece of art scattered across the walls and floor. But these three objects in particular made me curious, I wanted to understand why they were specifically chosen to be placed on that wall. None of them are similar in any way, stemming from different cultures, eras, and material. So, what could they mean? I have an idea, sort of.

I believe each of these three pieces represent our main three protagonists, from left to right: Connor, Markus, and Kara. It represents their identity, their story, their journey. I did some research on these objects, using Google Lens to help point me first in the right direction of the possible inspiration or sources of the pieces, and afterwards my own reading using various art archives, articles, galleries, and museum sites. (I apologize for the wall of text 😅)

1st, Connor:

This seems to be a type of emblem, shield, a coat of arms. A coat of arms is typically adorned and used to represent an entity, and organization, an empire, government, army, or a noble family. Coats of arms are intellectual property, meaning, they cannot be worn just by anybody and flaunted just to feel special, you have to be deserving and privileged enough to display it. Wearing one is a sign of honor and respect, as well as servitude, and with it comes the duty of representing your status and regulating civil law, should you be in a position of policing, legal activity, or combat.

How does this relate to Connor?

Our beloved Android sent by CyberLife has been given orders by his makers, the great and all powerful company that produces every single Android we see in game. His duty is to assist the Detroit Police Department in investigating deviants. This coat of arms, particularly shaped like a shield or police badge, represents Connor's story as a prestigious and advanced prototype Android, with the capability to analyze clues at an inhuman rate and perform combat maneuvers like its child's play. He is not a force to be reckoned with, should he choose to stay a machine, in fact, he IS the law. He is the shield and representative of the company, CyberLife, and its only chance at finding the source of deviancy among their highest-profiting product, Androids. Without Connor, CL is headed straight into nothingness. He must not disappoint Amanda, his handler, and be the loyal subject that he was programmed to be. The infamous blue triangle logo found on every Android's uniform, a symbol of CL, is just a modern version of a coat of arms.

If you look from a Deviant Connor perspective, the police badge/shield-shaped coat of arms could also represent his loyalty to Hank and his protective demeanor. At almost every dangerous encounter alongside his partner, Connor is given the choice to either protect or ignore Hank's safety. Though his priority is to find the deviants, it is his personal mission to protect Hank from harm.

2nd, Markus:

A Marka/Dogon mask, originating from West African ethnic groups (Mali, Ivory Coast, Burkina Faso), particularly the Bambara and Dogon people (and other adjacent groups within the geographic location). This one was a bit difficult to research about, as many masks tend to have ambiguous origins and meaning, but from what I read, these masks tend to represent the coming of age, male initiation, journey into manhood, identity within a society, as well as religious association when used in rituals, sacrifice, and tradition. Some forms of these masks are used in rituals that have a connection with the dead, showing reverence and respect for those who passed on. Practicing remembrance and showing honor to their ancestors are large aspects of their culture with the use of these masks. The masks are also used in traditional healing practices, where they are believed to have powerful spiritual properties that can help cure illness and promote well-being. These handcrafted masterpieces are extremely important in these cultures and are often passed down by generations, signifying the importance of family and bond.

How does this relate to Markus?

These unique masks were primarily made and used by men in West African ethnic groups during the initiations of boys transitioning to men. Much like our Markus, the 'adoptive son' of Carl himself, Markus' innocence and youth is suddenly taken and he's forced into chaos, being harassed by protestors, threatened by Leo, almost permanently shutdown, thrown into the android scrapyard, and has to navigate the world by himself without his father to protect him. He has to mature and leave the comfort of his peaceful and comfy life, and come to terms with the cruelty of the world where Androids are subjugated to abuse and slavery. As a man, no longer a protected child, he takes the responsibility of protection and guidance for his people, symbolizing his 'coming of age' and transition into manhood. He is changed, has endured trauma, and must put on a mask to show that he is still strong and ready to live a life in his new role as a leader. As Lucy puts it, "You had it all, and you lost it all... You've seen hell and now hell lives in you."

Markus' story is closely related to death and the reverence of his 'ancestors': previous Androids who have suffered and died at the hands of humans. His goal as the leader of Jericho is to avenge those that they have lost and fight for those he can yet save. Every deviant's life is unique and special, their stories have meaning, even if they are treated like mere objects and servants by human society. Markus is willing to sacrifice his life in many instances to send a message to the humans, pass on his legacy to Jericho, and afterwards, all of society. His ability to convert is symbolic of a crying, healing, and inspiring message, reaching the furthest reaches of Detroit to those that need it the most. He wants to heal and save his people, bringing them biocomponents and thirium, expanding their sanctuary, arming his people (or family, at this point) with defenses, but in order to do that, he has to be willing to carry the burden of leadership.

3rd, Kara:

The skull of a bull, carved, broken, yet standing strong, thanks to kintsukuroi, aka Kintsugi. Kintsugi is the intricate Japanese art of repairing broken ceramic pottery using powdered gold/silver/platinum to put the pieces together, and display something in a different light, even more special than its original form. The purpose of Kintsugi isn't to hide or disguise the broken figure, but to instead emphasize its history, showing the life that the object had endured. The traditional Japanese philosophy of "Wabi-sabi", often associated with this particular art, describes that beauty can be appreciated even when it's broken and imperfect. There is beauty even in something modest and rough. Even a powerful and enduring beast, like a bull, can be broken down, but its story isn't over, its remains can still be repaired and appreciated if put together by a powerful glue such as gold, or perhaps... Love?

How does this relate to Kara?

Kara, the perfect housemaid Android for domestic work and childcare, is no stranger to being broken. In fact, our first scene with Kara is her being repaired and returned to Todd. Her memory has been wiped clean, she's been made anew, it's almost like nothing has happened, right? Over the course of her story, we learn that Kara has in fact been destroyed, broken, and abused by Todd. How do we come to the realization of her past? Thanks to Alice. Alice, in this case, is her glue, the mold between her cracks and shards. The bond and natural love between Alice and Kara is what keeps her together, alive. Because Kara is a protective mother-figure, the bull, or a cow, whatever you perceive it as, is a perfect symbol for her. Bulls are gentle in their nature, until a trigger sets off their instinct to fight and run you over with their body mass and horns. This is seen in her constant struggle to survive and seek shelter.

We come across two men in particular (out of her many escapes from danger) who set this instinct off, Todd and Zlatko. Both of them want to (or attempt to) break her, wipe her memory clean, and take away the beauty that is her caring nature and deviancy. Just like how mankind has domesticated cattle for their own benefit. Alice brings her back every single time. No matter how much of her body and memory is stripped away, she is back and stronger than before. Kara is a survivor. She can cut her hair, remove her LED, wear ragged clothes as a disguise, but deep down it's still Kara. Her story is shown in her battle scars and changes in her appearance, just like the golden streaks of broken pottery. As long as she has the protective instinct and love for Alice, it'll always be Kara. This is the beauty symbolized by Kintsugi and Wabi-sabi.

---

If you made it this far, thank you! I'd love to hear your opinions and comments on my analysis. This might all be a stretch, but seeing as how the game is littered with references, themes, and symbolism across many scenes, these artworks seemed to standout for a reason, at least to me.

[nunununuy]

Part 2

Part 1 Part 3

Prince x Fem Reader

Title: "Changing the Fate of the Third Prince"

Over the next few months, the relationship between Rafael and I began to evolve in ways I hadn’t expected. It started gradually, almost imperceptibly—just a brief smile here, a softer tone there. But I noticed. After all, Rafael was someone who rarely smiled, especially in public. Yet, when it was just the two of us, he began to show glimpses of warmth.

It happened for the first time during one of our usual meetings in the royal library. I was rambling on, excitedly explaining a theory I had read about military strategy—a topic I had specifically chosen to engage his interest. I could feel Rafael’s gaze on me, more focused than usual. Suddenly, I noticed it: the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re... smiling,” I said, surprised, my words breaking the flow of my thoughts.

Rafael blinked, seeming to realize what he was doing. But instead of retreating into his usual cold expression, his smile softened into something almost shy. “I didn’t realize you noticed,” he murmured, his voice unusually gentle.

From that day onward, our interactions shifted. He no longer maintained his distant façade when we spoke. Rafael, who had once been so guarded and closed off, began to relax around me. Sometimes, he would smile without realizing it—genuine and unforced. And though he still spoke with his typical calmness, there was a new warmth in his tone when we were together. He seemed to enjoy listening to me ramble on about various topics—politics, history, or even the latest gossip around the court.

***

One afternoon, while we were taking a quiet walk in the palace gardens, something unexpected happened. We had grown accustomed to spending time together like this—no longer by chance but by choice. We would stroll among the flowers, and I would talk while Rafael mostly listened, occasionally offering his own thoughts.

This time, however, Rafael was the one who broke the silence.

“You know,” he began, his voice quieter than usual. “I’ve never had anyone who speaks to me like you do.”

I stopped walking, turning to face him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “What do you mean?”

“You treat me like a person,” Rafael continued, his gaze meeting mine. “Not just as the Third Prince. Not as someone to be feared, or pitied, or ignored.”

My heart clenched at his words. It was true—most people treated Rafael either with indifference or fear, because of his status and the tension surrounding his relationship with the rest of the royal family. Even his father and brothers were guilty of it.

“You are a person,” I replied gently. “A person worth knowing.”

Rafael looked at me for a long moment, as though weighing my words. Then, for the first time, he opened up about his past—about how it felt to grow up in the shadow of his mother’s death, forever blamed for something beyond his control. How the distance between him and his family had always been a heavy burden, one he could never shake.

“Sometimes, I wonder if they’ll ever see me as more than the cause of her death,” Rafael admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

My heart ached for him. All this time, he had been carrying that weight alone. I reached out and placed a hand on his arm, hoping to offer some small comfort. “You’ve always been more than that. And maybe... they’re starting to see it too.”

***

As time passed, Rafael’s relationship with his family began to show signs of improvement. It wasn’t a dramatic transformation, but the tension in the air wasn’t as thick as it used to be. Arthur, who had once barely acknowledged Rafael’s existence, now made an effort to exchange pleasantries when they crossed paths. They still didn’t have deep conversations, but it was a start.

One evening, during a royal banquet, I watched with a mixture of pride and relief as Rafael exchanged a few words with his father—the Emperor. Though the conversation was short, it was civil. They even nodded at each other, a simple gesture that was monumental considering their past.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself. All the time I had spent nudging Rafael towards his family, all the small moments of encouragement—it hadn’t been in vain. Seeing Rafael slowly heal, even just a little, was enough to make me feel that everything was worth it.

But what made me happiest was how Rafael had changed with me. Our relationship had blossomed into a genuine friendship—something I hadn’t anticipated when I first set out to change the future. We laughed together, shared secrets, and discussed everything from politics to personal dreams. Rafael, once so cold and unreachable, now had moments where he was carefree, even playful.

“Sometimes I wonder,” he mused one day as we sat under a large oak tree, watching the sunset. “If you hadn’t come into my life... would I have ever known this kind of peace?”

I smiled at him, leaning back on the grass. “Maybe you would have found it eventually. But I’m glad I could help.”

Rafael chuckled softly, glancing at me. “You talk too much, you know that?”

“I do,” I teased back. “But that’s why you like me.”

***

With each passing day, Rafael’s transformation became more evident. He was no longer the cold, detached prince I had first met. He had found comfort in our friendship and had even begun to rebuild some bridges with his family.

One evening, we were attending yet another royal gathering, this time in celebration of an upcoming political alliance. The grand ballroom was filled with nobles and dignitaries from across the empire, but I only had eyes for Rafael as he mingled among the crowd.

To my surprise, I saw him engage in a brief but cordial conversation with Arthur. There was no hostility in their exchange, just two brothers speaking casually. As they parted ways, I saw Rafael’s eyes flicker toward me, and when he caught my gaze, he smiled—an unguarded, soft smile meant just for me.

I felt my heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just relief that my efforts hadn’t been wasted. It was more than that. In that moment, I realized how much Rafael had come to mean to me, not just as someone whose fate I wanted to change, but as a person I deeply cared for.

But I couldn’t lose focus. The future I had read about in the novel was still looming over us, and while Rafael had changed, I wasn’t sure if it would be enough to stop the dark path the story had laid out.

Still, for now, I allowed myself to be happy. I had made a difference. Rafael was no longer the prince doomed to become a tyrant. He was my friend—a person I had come to trust and who trusted me in return.

The road ahead was uncertain, but for the first time, I felt hope. Together, we had already begun rewriting the future, and I was determined to make sure it would end in peace, not tragedy.

And maybe, just maybe, there was a new future where Rafael could find happiness, not just as a prince, but as someone who had finally found his place in the world.

___

[modernsuperhero]

Who are these fun characters and why are they taking over my dash? /pos /please tell me abt your blorbos

i'm assuming you mean these little guys:

These guys are my newest silliest dudes from the webcomic School Bus Graveyard! It's free to read on webtoons here and is currently in talks to get a TV adaptation soon so now is 1000% the time to be getting into it!! It's basically a supernatural mystery about six high school freshmen from Georgia who go on a field trip and end up sucked into a demon dimension every time it hits midnight! It's super cool - the pacing is very good imo, a good balance of the Main Plot (oh no we need to survive the Demon Dimension again, also Why Are We In A Demon Dimension) with character development and backstory stuff!

The characters are badass but in a way I feel is very realistic? Like, not just "oh i'm the protagonist suddenly i know how to judo flip armies the moment i'm in danger" but more like "i'm going to train for months in self defense classes to build up some basic muscles" kinda way. The characters themselves are also pretty well fleshed out - they're not just the typical archetypes. Like, the "weak bullied nerd kid" isn't JUST a weak bullied nerd kid, he has well developed motivations and backstory and simultaneously realistic and satisfying character growth.

There are implied potential/future romances but it is so NOT the core point of the story, so whether or not that's your thing you can either ignore it or get excited about it in equal measure. The characters also aren't just edgy and gritty "we must deal with this alone... augh misery woe is us..." they actively do what they can to use all the resources available to them (including trying to get help from their parents, which is an ick for me in other media when the kid protagonists just refuse to ask for help? or assume they can't without trying? anyway).

I would say to be careful about any warnings at the beginning of specific chapters, because some can get quite violent.

The six main characters, without giving to many spoilers, are as follows under the cut (cuz this got long):

The protagonist Ashlyn, an asocial ballerina with her loving ex-military parents, who has a condition that gives her incredibly sensitive/enhanced hearing (she ends up using this to help detect the monsters after them, since they're otherwise silent to the other protagonists!)

Aiden, a creepily-smiley ex-homeschooled rich kid who has no concept of social convention or personal space. Has forcibly chosen Ashlyn to be his friend during his first year in school against her will and ends up accidentally setting off the chain of events leading to the Plot. (I love him. He definitely has Every Mental Illness <3)

Ben, Aiden's incredibly physically intimidating cousin, who is mute and so, so sweet and gentle and follows Aiden like his shadow, in part to take care of him when Aiden's antics get him injured and in part because Ben's muteness makes it incredibly difficult for people to understand him. Aiden, however, can understand his nonverbal communications with ease

Taylor, a friendly girl's girl who tries (often in vain) to befriend Ashlyn. Is also a talented mechanic who ends up putting googly eyes on her weapon once they end up in the Demon Dimension. She's the most Emotionally Aware Person Here but also she's like, 15, so, the bar is on the floor

Tyler, Taylor's twin brother, a somewhat aggressive and rude baseball jock who mostly Minds His Own Damn Business aside from his clinginess to Taylor. In fact they wear matching outfits in almost every episode of the comic it's so funny and cute. Is often found fighting bullies to defend their victims so i forgive him for all his own asshole crimes he's just a dude. he's one of my little guys

Logan, who is canonically compared to a puppy. Shy, intelligent, and incredibly empathetic! My partner's favorite character who has one of the best character arcs so far imo. Likes photography, astrology, and gardening. I think they should give him more guns, as a treat. He can never have enough

anyways thank you for the ask! overall i highly recommend - it's still ongoing, we're currently in the middle of season two!! the mystery is unfolding, there's funny and sweet moments along with the intense ones, and i am INVESTED. :DDDDDD

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hellooo how about a Minho x she/her reader where Minho has been hit by the lightning and hs the scars and one day Reader walks on Minho being half naked and she traces his scars and theres tension building up ;) THANK YOU

I love lightning scars Minho so absolutely.

This is a relatively new request, but I'm trying to get some of the easier ones done since I'm currently away.

And I just liked this idea.

SPARKS

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. After TDC in the Safe Haven. You're a Right Arm member because I just like the idea.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, spice, typical dumb horny teenage bullshit. That's it, really.

You're a member of the Right Arm.

You're not high-ranking or necessarily special. You just ended up tagging along after Vince came through the refugee camp you were staying at.

But that doesn't mean you don't do anything. You're bold and forward, and you went through life-risking measures to help WICKED's Subjects escape.

Because, well, everyone did.

That doesn't matter now, though. They're safe, you're safe - everyone is safe and everything is okay.

Well, kind of.

Trauma doesn't just vanish. But, people are getting on with their lives.

And so are you.

You've ended up befriending some of the Gladers. Originally, you were friends with Harriet and Sonya since they'd been around a while - and they introduced you to the boys. So, you've got your own little friendship group now.

You're particularly close to Frypan and have some friendly competition with Gally. But you like them all the same.

Well...

Almost.

You don't know what it is about Minho that has you in such a chokehold. Sure, maybe if you were some innocent girl from a Maze who didn't know how to act around boys, it would make sense. But you're not.

You've survived the Scorch and the land outside of the remainder of society. It's not like Minho is the first person you've ever been attracted to either. So, why does he make you feel like this?

Apart from the fact he is undeniably attractive.

You figure it's just dumb surface level physical attraction. And with nothing else better to do, you decide to test the waters a bit.

Glancing at him across the table as the bonfire dances and his friends chat, often meeting each other's gaze. He holds it longer than he should. He always does.

Always standing or sitting next to him; your arms or your knees brushing as neither of you make any effort to grow the distance between you.

Playful inside jokes that often have subtle suggestive undertones. Normally, in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it style that the other Gladers brush off or don't notice. This results in Minho smirking into his chosen beverage, drinking up your figure out of the corner of his eye.

It goes on like this for a while; just being in the same friend group with some subtle flirtations going on. It's actually kind of fun and a much needed way to relax.

But it doesn't actually go much further than that. And you're fine with that.

For a while.

The jokes start becoming more explicit. The eye contact becoming less subtle. The closeness becoming drunken dancing instead of just standing together.

People are starting to notice.

The dumb attraction is starting to become actual feelings. He's brave and strong and funny and everything you want - and it's just making the sexual tension thicker.

God - it's getting bad. Anyone and everyone in a room with you two would be able to feel it.

The Gladers often tease Minho about it, talking about how he's one wrong move away from ripping your clothes off and cracking where he stands.

It's taking a lot of resilience from the both of you. Especially since you're both stubborn - it's become a silent game of who will crumble first.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" You're currently sorting out bedding and hauling different types of sleeping arrangements around camp. With Gally being put in charge of the Builders now, the huts are being thrown up like there's no tomorrow.

The Gladers and other Maze Subjects got the first available buildings, along with high up Right Arm members. You don't really mind, to be fair, you enjoy the hammocks and are happy to help the Gladers.

But as Thomas shouts you, you groan, turning around, blankets threatening to spill out of your hold. "Hey, Thomas. You good?"

"Yeah," something seems off about him as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, "I know you're already busy, but could you check on Minho for me?"

"Huh?" You tilt your head, concern immediately setting in. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Uh," Thomas did not think this far ahead of his dumb plan. "Well, we just haven't seen him all day - seems kinda down. Figured you'd be the best person to speak to him."

This perplexes you. "Why me? You guys are closer."

And you could've sworn you'd seen Gally and Minho shoving each other about earlier today. Though, maybe you're just mixing up your days.

"Yeah, but he likes you, so..." You pause, farrowing your brows. He likes you? In what context? Like you know that he likes you. But... like, more than just the dumb flirting?

You shake it off. "Alright, gimme a second."

You dump the bedding off where it needs to be and make a beeline for Minho's hut.

Little do you know that Minho has just gotten out of the shower - and is completely fine. Thomas and Frypan decided they'd had enough of enduring the tension between you and this is the result that.

Reaching the door, it's slightly ajar, and in your concerned state, you, for some reason, decide not to knock.

"Hey, Minho, are you-?" You push open the door and immediately freeze.

Well, shit.

Minho stands with his back to you, loose sweatpants hanging off of his hips and he's without a shirt. He rubs his hair with a towel, freezing at your voice and turning slightly to look at you.

Which would be less awkward if you weren't in some kind of trance.

Minho is tall and muscular, and he doesn't have to be half naked for you to be aware of that. But, that's not what's stands out.

All over his upper body, mainly populating his back, are pinkish lines. They travel down his spine and split like webs across his back, some whisps creeping across his sides and grazing his front.

"You just gonna stare or ask me about it?" Minho says after a good few seconds pass.

What do you even ask?

"Uh, what... why..?" You trail off and Minho raises his eyebrow before scoffing.

"I got hit by lightning." He states matter-of-factly. "Ended up giving me some scars."

"When did that happen?"

"Out in the Scorch, just before we met Brenda and Jorge."

"And you never mentioned this?"

"Well, it didn't seem like a big deal," he smirks. "And I'm kinda enjoying the look on your face."

This kind of snaps you back into reality. You're here for a reason.

You clear you throat, closing the door behind you for more privacy just in case the ex-Runner is on the verge of a meltdown. "Are you... alright?"

"Uh, yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Minho is growing more concerned by the second. What is happening here?

"Well, Thomas said that something was wrong and asked me to talk to you."

Minho scoffs, putting the dots together and slowly nodding his head before rubbing his face with his hands. "Did he, now? Shuckin' slinthead. I knew they were up to something."

"Huh?"

"They're messing with you - us, even."

"Huh? Why would- oh! Oh."

Ah. That makes more sense. And is mildly mortifying.

"Yeah." Minho shakes his head, turning away from you again as he mumbles to himself. "Sorry, my friends are dicks."

"It's uh, fine. It's fine."

Your gaze falls back on Minho's chiselled form. He's practically mouth-watering.

And it's not like this is weird. You've been pushing each other's boundaries since day one. This could be another opportunity to see how far you can take things. I mean, he would if this were the other way around. So, with a sudden peak in confidence, you walk over.

Minho chucks his towel on his bed. "So, are you-?"

Minho doesn't even get the chance to finish his question as electricity sparks through him. Again. This time, not because he's nearly dying, but because your fingers graze his back.

His entire body stills, his mind immediately becoming foggy, and the hair on his arms stands on end.

"Do they still hurt?" You ask, your gaze focused on his skin and your voice low.

You're gentle in your moments, letting your fingertips barely tickle his flesh. But with the immediate and tense reaction, you're reminded that Minho is about as touch-straved as someone can get.

He's just good at hiding it.

"Uh, no, not really. They kinda feel weird sometimes, and I was really buggin' out about them when I first noticed them. But I guess I had bigger klunk on my plate." He tries to maintain his composure, but his voice wavers at several points.

You bring your hand higher, dancing across his spine and between his shoulder blades.

"Why were you buggin' out?" You've grown somewhat used to the Glader way of speaking.

He hesitates for a second, physically jumping when your other hand joins in, using your thumb to rub circles and pull at the scars threating to escape to his middrift.

"Well, I uh- shit," he mumbles the cuss word, stepping back more and into your touch, letting his head fall back. "I just... they just look weird, yanno?"

"I think they look hot."

Okay, you're becoming very bold.

"Hm? You think I look hot?" He asks, half-looking over his shoulder at you, not wanting to fully turn around and lose the feeling.

"That's not what I said."

"That's what I'm askin'."

You blink at him, watching his lopsided smile creep across his face.

In a game of confidence - Minho will always win.

Which means trying to play it cool.

"I just think scars are interesting, they tell a story."

"Do you go around touching everyone's scars, then?" He cracks a wicked grin you can't see as he turns his head away again. "That might get you in a bit of trouble around here."

"Yeah, but not with you." It actually is genuinely fun tracing the patterns in his skin. You have one hand following one path and the other following a different one.

"Oh, yeah? How do you know that?"

"Because you like it."

He peers at you again, his face suddenly serious and his tone lower than before. "You're really starting to push it, yanno that?"

"Push what?" You tilt your head, pretending to play innocent.

"You know what."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"So, you're just feeling me up because you think my scars are hot?" He scoffs. "That's what's happening here?"

You think for a second. Fuck it. "Yep."

"Well, there's more scars if you wanna touch them?"

Your eyes flicker to his face, letting your arms fall from his skin. He turns around, holding his hands behind his back, he rocks on his heels.

From his back, travelling to his front are smaller webs of the scarring. At first glance, you thought they only reached around his sides, but now you're realising there's thinner, less noticeable branches trailing across his abs.

He presses his lips into a thin line, almost like he's calling your bluff. Because this is the game you've been playing. Pushing each other. And you've pushed him so he's pushing you.

Though, this very well might end up being the breaking point.

Too stubborn to back down, your hand connects with his stomach area. He flinches, but very quickly relaxes again. You gently run your fingers across the lines and the curves of not only the remains of the electricity, but of just his body.

Your eyes flicker to his face as you expect him to make some cocky comment about how that's not a scar. But he doesn't. His eyes are fixated on your hand.

It's a feeling he's never really experienced before - watching someone enjoy him. Someone touch him with such care. With such want. Someone touching him like this at all is new.

And it's you.

You're the one touching him.

You.

And that's making it so much worse.

He doesn't make any effort to hide or stop the tightening sensation in his pants or the way his chest is rising and falling. His mind is falling into complete fog; he feels like he's taken something he probably shouldn't have.

You notice it, too.

"Minho-?"

"Shut up," he says almost immediately, eyes finally meeting yours. His pupils are wide and his eyelids heavy. "This... this isn't fair. You can't..."

He seems a strange mix of stressed and turned on.

"Okay, I'll stop," you pull your hand away, but he immediately grabs it, laying it flat against his middrift. "Minho?"

"Don't," he mumbles. "Don't stop." He can't look at you properly.

God, what's happening to him?

"Look," he continues, trying to gain some sort of clarity for a second. "If you're just messing around, that's fine, but leave now, okay? 'Cause this is getting cruel."

His words and the way he's acting is sending heat straight to your core. You step towards him, your faces inches apart.

"Are you caving, Minho?" Your voice is sultry as your hand slides further down his front.

"Are you?" He responds, leaning in further, your noses brush and you can feel his breath on your face.

"We can't keep doing this, yanno? One of us has to break eventually." You mumble, practically into his lips.

His eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips.

"Shuck it," his hands come to your waist, yanking you closer as he finally kisses you. You squeak from the force behind it as you throw you arms around his neck, clawing into his back to try and steady yourself.

It takes a matter of seconds for Minho to spin you around, pushing you onto the bed, both of you tangling together. Desperation sets in fairly quickly.

Minho's hands under your shirt as you try to pull it over your head. His lips on your neck and chest as he slips a hand under you, trying to yank your jeans down. You leave stains on his skin from your nails.

It's a blur of emotion and hormones.

Then Minho hesitates as he sits back. At first, you think he's just admiring you as you lay in your underwear, but there's something else.

"You good?" You ask, becoming concerned.

"You know we're not gonna be friends anymore if we do this, right? Like the flirting and klunk is fun, but this is different. We can't take this back. A-and I've never done this before. I don't wanna shuck up our friendship or make things weird."

You blink at him before sitting up. He watches you as you move onto your knees and kiss him again.

"I don't wanna be your damn friend, Minho. Take the hint."

It's like there's a light behind his eyes, a smile creeping across his face, but unlike his usual cocky smirk, it's soft and warm and genuine.

He pecks your lips. It's sweet and unusual for him. "You wanna be more than friends, then?"

"Yeah," you chuckle, "but I'm sure we can worry about that later. We're a bit busy right now." You wrap your arms around his neck again, lightly touching the scars on his back. He grins at you, connecting your lips again as he pushes you down.

He pulls away, his teeth brushing your ear lobe as he lets out a low chuckle.

"Sounds like a good plan."

Here ya go, another spicey Minho piece for y'all.

I hope you enjoyed :))

[pinkberrytea]

OC Deep Dive

Eeeee tysm for the tag @kalmiaphlox! 💝🫂 Doing this for my Tav/Durge Mavka, as usual!

No pressure tagging @locallegume, @bardic-inspo, @zekeen, @starryjuicebox, @bananasfosterparent, @sniickerdoodles, @judasiskariot, @honeybee-bard, @inkymoonbunny, @marlowethebard, @nyx-knox and @astarionancuntnin!

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Mav is scared of plenty of things, but first and foremost she’s terrified of herself, of not being able to control the Urge; this also means she’s scared of going to sleep, because that’s when she’s most vulnerable to it. As for her more common fears, she’s deathly afraid of thunderstorms as they’re associated with the trauma of her foster family’s demise, and also of being forsaken by all, left alone with no friends to call her own.

Do they have any pet peeves?

Mav is typically very patient and it takes quite some effort to get a rise out of her, but the push and pull of social relations does make her rather anxious. She needs constant reaffirmation, and if someone starts suddenly acting cold towards her, it will eat her up inside and yet she won’t be able to bring herself to talk to them. Also, she greatly dislikes it when people she’s not well acquainted with touch her horns.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Mirkon’s Story, as it reminds her of the first time she ever saved anyone, the first time she ever felt like there was good in her; her Corvid Token, which she often uses to shapeshift into a white raven; and Bloodthirst, the dagger her brother gifted her and that was then stolen by her sister, her only memento of him.

What do they notice first in a person?

Their eyes, and how they perceive her—whether they mean her harm, look down upon her, or glint with warm acceptance.

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Either a 10 or a 9, considering everything she’s been subjected to, especially at the hands of Kressa. While for most of her adult life she was forced to be a passenger inside her own body, as soon as she was tadpoled, the Urge left her alone to fend for herself—she woke up from a nightmare into another, her consciousness regained while she was being cruelly tortured.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Neither—she freezes.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

She was adopted into a family of four—her foster mother and father, and her two foster sisters. They were all abusive towards her, but especially her father. Eventually she made her way back to her true family: her father Bhaal, and her many Bhaalspawn siblings. Out of those, she was closest to her older brother, a Dragonborn who was conceived from Bhaal’s own gore, much like herself; yet while she was the result of a pact with Mephistopheles, the Lord of Murder breathed life into him with no external aid, at the height of his power. She was created to be bred by her brother, but put off by her tender age, he took her under his wing instead. The Urge would only ever leave her at his request, so the few times she was herself during her years within the cult were all spent by his side. He had a soft spot for her, and would treat her kindly despite his own homicidal tendencies—that is, until he was killed by Orin, when the Urge took over Mav completely and she rose as head of the cult and Bhaal’s Chosen.

What animal represents them best?

A white raven.

What is a smell they dislike?

The stench of stale blood, as it would be the first thing she’d smell upon regaining consciousness after having control over her body be stolen by the Urge.

Have they broken any bones?

Yes. Kressa made sure of that.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Mousy, gloomy and quiet, obviously unaware of how pretty she is.

Are they a night owl, or morning bird?

Naturally, a morning bird—the dawn in particular is her favorite time of the day, as it is peaceful and signals a new beginning, a new chance at life. In her ending with UA, however, she is forced to become a night owl, though she doesn’t mind adapting to his lifestyle as long as he is safe and happy.

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Mav loves sweets, especially berries and milk tea, and hates slimy, gooey foods, like okra.

Do they have any hobbies?

Reading poetry and sugary sweet romance novels. She will also tell you she loves cooking and baking, but don’t believe her—for your own safety.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

She would freeze at first—then would come the waterworks, crybaby that she is. After calming down, however, she’d be all smiles, and very much grateful for having such wonderful friends (the tears would likely return in waves though, sometimes completely unprompted).

Do they like to wear jewellery?

Mav’s not very fashion-conscious, but after becoming Astarion’s consort, she doesn’t mind letting him doll her up with expensive-looking earrings and bracelets, which becomes one of his favorite hobbies.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Round cursive, very neat and tidy, but also small to an almost unreadable degree.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Anxiety and melancholy.

Do they have a favourite fabric?

Anything soft and comforting, like cotton or wool.

What kind of accent do they have?

I use Voice 2 for her, so very British!

[alicentsgf]

Let's talk in depth about book Alicent. because even though i read the book 3 years ago I didn't engage online about it until the show's release and um. wow. some people have a very different interpretation of her to me. and also... some of those interpretations show a fundamental misunderstanding of the text, a tendency toward indulging the misogyny present in Fire and Blood, or both.

People are saying the writers changed Alicent's story to 'make her a victim'... they didn't. It was always possible to read the book and perceive that she was in many ways a victim. Honestly the biggest thing they changed was her age, probably to assist the interpretation they'd chosen, but the larger elements all stay the same; in both versions she's worked in service of the crown since she was young (as a type of companion either to Jaehaerys or Rhaenyra) and she and Rhaenyra initially have a good relationship (according to one source in F&B - this supposedly changes when Aegon was born and not named heir). So making it Rhaenyra we see her close with just makes the emotional tethers that might have been there anyway more visible. After all, Rhaenyra Does spare Alicent's life in F&B, and whilst she says it's for Viserys sake, Alicent at that point had been at the very least complicit in the deaths of most of Rhaenyra's children. Rhaenyra having such a strong former bond with Alicent is going to give this event in the show a lot more weight. It's not hard to see why they made this change, because it adds to the existing tragedy of the story.

The fact is everything we see of Alicent in F&B is up for debate to some extent. Like, for example, did she seduce Viserys? of course certain sources tell us yes, but Fire and Blood is brimming with asoiaf-typical misogyny; it all reminds me somewhat of the story of Anne Boleyn, her story molded into something unrecognisable by history in order to make her the instigator. In truth, we have no way of knowing if Alicent wanted Viserys or not, but we do know she probably didn't have to seduce him. She was widely regarded as being the most beautiful woman - it wouldn't have taken a lot for Viserys to notice her. People, characters and readers alike, assume that because she wasn't the best political match he must have been persuaded, but Viserys was a selfish man, (that is indisputable, we see it in many of his provable actions), so it fits with his character to choose a slightly unsuitable wife on the basis of his own lust. The age gap in the show only serves to demonstrate visually the power imbalance that was at least somewhat present in the book anyway. And yes, this like most things in the book is up for interpretation, but I will say this: I seriously do not respect people calling her 'evil'.

The text never presents Alicent as evil. Even in the worst of her actions she is never legitimately shown to revel in the pain and suffering of others. At most you could argue she was ambitious, but I don't even believe that on the basis of one specific thing: it was her, not Otto, who asked Viserys to betroth Aegon to Rhaenyra. This was not a crazy suggestion in the book, as it was presented in the show; they were only a decade apart, and it was the Valyrian custom that the eldest son would marry his eldest sister, as Aegon the conqueror married Visenya. Alicent wanted this without stipulating the expectation that Aegon would rule instead of Rhaenyra. Viserys reportedly dismissed Alicent on the basis of believing she only wanted Aegon a step closer to the throne, and it can be read that way, but personally I don't think so. I think she was exhausting options to try to protect him after she realised Viserys was never going to name him heir.

Ultimately, Alicent would have been stupid to ignore that her children's lives were at stake. Especially in Fire and Blood where she was much less familiar with Rhaenyra. Nothing in Rhaenyra's actions suggested she wouldn't be capable. She reportedly had no affection for her brothers where she was kid enough to Helaena, suggesting she already saw them as threats. She had demonstrated herself willing to accept physical harm to them in favour of her own sons. She was later thought to be at least complicit in the death of her husband Laenor, who had by all accounts been a good, kind husband to her… and then she married Daemon. Even before this he had been an obvious threat to Alicent's children; a violent man who'd always lusted after power, with a known hatred for Hightowers and who'd never been kind to his nephews by Alicent. Even if Alicent didn't believe Rhaenyra capable of murdering her sons, she would have been stupid not to believe Daemon able.

The truth is even in the book this crisis was set in motion by Viserys. Once he'd refused to marry Aegon to Rhaenyra the bomb was built and ticking away, it was only a matter of time. Even if Rhaenyra's heirs had been indisputably trueborn, Aegon and his brothers and any descendants they had would have been symbols for those who wanted to oppose the Crown to rally behind as soon as Rhaenyra or Jacaerys disappointed them, no matter if Alicent's sons had personally bent the knee. The situation only became more dire when it was clear that Rhaenyra's heir was not trueborn.

Fire and Blood isn't even really quiet about Rhaenyra's first three sons being bastards. To me it read like Rhaenys' Baratheon blood allowed those who wanted to believe otherwise to delude themselves, as Viserys does in both versions. After all, in the book Laenor being gay is an open secret. But the thing is… it doesn't even really matter if they were or not. With so many people believing they were bastards, they were pretty much as good as. Eventually, and most definitely after Rhaenyra's death, there would have been some form of conflict. Because if Jace, an assumed bastard, ascended the throne it would throw into question the claims of almost every lord in Westeros, many of whom would have older bastard brothers. and if a bastard who didn't even look targaryen could sit the highest seat in the realm over a trueborn silver-haired son of a king like Aegon, what's to stop the bastard brothers of any lord from laying claim to their seat? Aegon would have become a rallying point for that dispute whether he liked it or not, and Jace would have been forced to dispose of him if he wanted to maintain power.

In light of this, it's really no wonder Alicent repeatedly voices her animosity over Rhaenyra's sons questionable births. It's very telling that in F&B every cruel comment she reportedly makes about or to Rhaenyra references it. and I say "reportedly" because one of the worst of her quotes, her saying 'mayhaps the whore will die in childbirth' about Rhaenyra, people quote as fact… if you do this I will laugh in your face and ask if you read the book. because Alicent did not say that. or rather, if she did, Fire and Blood would not be able to tell us either way because the quote is attributed to her by Mushroom, one of Rhaenyra's supporters who (apart from being a famed liar) was with Rhaenyra on Dragonstone at the time.

The other two quotes used to argue her supposed evilness are from slightly less questionable sources, and honestly, yeah, it does seem likely to me Alicent implied to Rhaenyra her bastard sons' blood was worth less than that of her own trueborn sons'… but at that point, with the horror she'd experienced on account of Viserys upholding Rhaenyra and her sons' questionable claims, her reacting in this way is perhaps cruel and prejudiced, but not evil. And almost justifiably cruel in my opinon; for all she knows the woman she's talking to directly ordered for her six-year-old grandson to be brutally murdered in front of her, her daughter, and her other grandchildren, directly leading to her daughter's madness and later suicide. Was she going to be respectful? Is it fair to expect that from her? This focus on the term 'bastard blood' overshadows the rest of the quote: “Bastard blood shed at war. My son’s sons were innocent boys, cruelly murdered. How many more must die to slake your thirst for vengeance?” Why is Alicent being a bit of a bitch treated as a worse sin than Rhaenyra ordering the brutal murder of a toddler, or at the very least excusing it.

The last quote mentioned to back up claims of alicent's 'evilness' is her telling her granddaughter Jaehaera she should slit the throat of her husband Aegon III in his sleep. By this point it seemed to me Alicent was no doubt consumed by bitterness and would have attacked Aegon herself given the chance, but even without condoning her words or actions we can see how she became like that; all of Alicent's sons are dead and she wants all of Rhaenyra's gone too. Wasn't it "an eye for an eye, a son for a son"? - Rhaenyra's side set the precedent - the idea that it is justifiable to take one innocent life in exchange for another, no matter if its the life of a child who just happens to have been born on the other side of a war.

Alicent by the end of her life had certainly been driven to cruelty in her grief, twisted into something ugly by the world and locked away to rot.

And yet her final words weren't steeped in bitterness or violence. When the fever sets in she accepts death, even welcomes it. She speaks of seeing her children again, and King Jaehaerys. So doesn't that say she was never driven by hatred at all? That there was never any kind of innate evil nature? At least that's my interpretation. This is the same girl who spent her youth reading to a dying king for no clear reward, and felt such affection for him that she mentioned him at the end of her own life, perhaps pining for the time before her marriage. (No doubt in the show she will mention Rhaenyra instead). This is the woman whose daughter and grandchildren visited her with such reliable frequency her grandson's killers knew to wait in her rooms for them.

So what was so evil about her? That she quite understandably saw Rhaenyra and her sons as a threat, and preemptively acted to protect her own? As much as people like to project ideologies onto these characters, neither Alicent nor Rhaenyra's motivations were ideological, that much as clear.

I may have many reservations about House of the Dragon's execution of it, but the decision to present Alicent as a victim of the world she inhabits was not only the right choice, but also kind of the only choice. HotD is presented as objective truth, where F&B is a collection of biased accounts dripping in the misogyny of the men relating them, and so HotD had to be a critique of its own source material. I admit to having my own bias, and my analysis is at least slightly skewed in Alicent's favour because I'm responding to the most negative interpretations of her. And they are all just interpretations. But in my opinion, those adapting the text looked at Alicent and asked "what if this woman is misunderstood?", "what if this woman had no real choice?", "what if the men of this world just chose to ignore her complexity, because she was a woman?" and those were absoutely the questions to ask.

[turbulentscrawl]

The State of the Manor

Just some headcanons and explanations for the manor setting, both for me and y'all. Any requests for IDV, unless specified otherwise, will be based in this environment. For easier writing, I’ll be calling our realm “Reality” and the other two dimensional manors “Factions.”

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-We’ve got Eldrich time-space shenanigans, folks! The manor is a real place in Reality…but it is also connected to two overlapping pocket dimensions, serving as a gateway to them. When someone arrives at the manor with an invitation, it appears well-kept and pristine, and walking through the door links them to one of the two Factions. The next morning when they awaken, they have been moved from Reality and to their Faction manor. If someone were to come to the manor without an invitation on their person, it appears as it really is, abandoned and decrepit. In some Hunters’ cases, they are drawn to their Faction after death without any choice in the matter.

-Time works differently at the manor too. The days appear to be just as long as they were in Reality, but the moon cycle only takes one week. No one seems to be aging, even those who have been in the manor for 'years.' Whenever someone is injured or killed in the game, they awake the next morning in their bed, totally unharmed. There are no servants in the Factions, but amble food and clean water are mysteriously always available in the pantry. It's anyone's guess how much time as passed in Reality.

-The two dimensions are mirrors of one another, and they serve to divide the Hunters and Survivors. The manors appear similar to the Reality manor on the outside, but are far, far larger on the inside and always expand to accommodate new members. No one knows how it’s chosen who goes where, or how some people exist simultaneously in both “factions.” On full moons, the maps between the two dimensions blur together. Hunters and Survivors can cross paths outside of Matches on these nights, and how that goes depends entirely on the people who meet; the rules of next-day healing apply outside of Matches as well. Survivors and Hunters can not enter one another’s manors, but otherwise there are no rules regarding how they interact outside of matches. If someone tries to leave, they simply wind up back at the manor; the space inside the dimensions loops back together so there is no ”exit.” Letters can be sent between Factions members at any time, sent and delivered by unseen messengers.

-Matches always occur at night, but are otherwise unpredictable in their scheduling. Weeks could go by without any, or there may be several in one night. Mysterious invitations for matches are provided the night before it is schedules, arriving either at the person’s bedroom door or with their dinner in the dining hall. The invitations list the Survivors, the Hunter(s), and the map. When it’s time for the match, everyone simply appears on the map. A blink, and they’re gone from the manor. They have no say in the matter, so wise Survivors will make a game plan before start time.

-The pain felt in the dimensions, in match and out, is very real. Death is death, just one you wake up from. Bleeding out is therefore considered the worst way to go out in a Match, and even those who don’t like teamwork typically have sympathy enough to try to save someone left in that condition. (The rocket chair is scary, but all together painless. Like a bad thrill ride.)

-No one from either Faction knows what the point of the Matches is, or if there really is some prize waiting for them at an unseeable end. There do not appear to be any prizes or punishments for winning or failing respectively, but most people assume there is an unspoken tally being kept. Nonparticipation for either Faction is met with cruel (usually psychological) punishments including inescapable night terrors and non-healing. Inspired by the dwindling hope of a prize, and the manor’s otherwise comfortable conditions, most people aren’t willing to try defying the rules.

-The Feaster seems to have a greater knowledge and connection to the Factions than anyone else, but he will not speak of why or how.